I recently read in our local weekly that a new Community Garden has started here in Chico. I mentioned it to a friend of mine who I figured would be excited about such a development. Instead, she looked at me quizzically and asked “what’s a community garden?” Apparently, I had some explaining to do.

A community garden is simply a piece of land gardened by a group of people to grow vegetables, flowers, trees, etc. It can be anywhere – a vacant lot, school, or church grounds. It may be in the middle of nowhere or smack dab in the middle of an urban hub. A community garden is a glorious thing bringing both people and food together. It’s an opportunity for folks without proper gardening space to enjoy the pleasure of home grown food. According to CommunityGarden.org there’s a lot to love about community gardens. Here are a few benefits a community garden offers:

• Improves the quality of life for people in the garden
• Provides a catalyst for neighborhood and community development
• Stimulates social interaction
• Encourages self-reliance
• Beautifies neighborhoods
• Produces nutritious food
• Reduces family food budgets
• Conserves resources
• Creates opportunity for recreation, exercise, therapy, and education
• Reduces crime
• Preserves green space
• Creates income opportunities and economic development
• Reduces city heat from streets and parking lots
• Provides opportunities for intergenerational and cross-cultural connections

 After explaining all this to my friend I started to get excited at the possibility of having my own plot at our newly formed oasis. Then an old memory crept up and I began to wonder if these ‘community garden people’ kept some sort of top-secret database of rebel plot renters.

It all started 15 years ago in a sleepy suburb of Los Angeles. Rob and I had just bought our first house on a postage stamp sized lot in the quaint town of Lakewood. Lakewood was the first post-war planned housing development in the nation. Built on a former sugar beet field in 1950, it consisted of 17,500 houses on 3,500 acres and brought innovation into suburban development such as assembly-line housing construction.  We fondly called it “Mayberry”.

Our postage size lot meant an even smaller yard. With two dogs, a deck, and a concrete driveway leading to our detached garage, we had very little space to grow produce. I had transformed our front flowerbed into a fragrant herb garden but I longed for the space to grow vegetables such as heirloom tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, and maybe even sweet peas. Yes, I could have transformed our small front lawn into a vegetable garden but we really liked our neighbors and we didn’t want to be known as “those people”.

I literally stumbled on the community garden by accident one day while exploring a short cut home. I stopped, pulled over, and clamored out of the car to take a closer look. I saw the sign “Community Garden” and stared at it in awe. I never knew such a thing existed.

Situated on a funky sized lot unsuitable for homes, the garden rambled along the side of most of one city block. It had a sagging chain link fence and gate with vines woven aimlessly throughout. The individual plots were neatly arranged in a grid between gravel paths wide enough for wheelbarrows, hoses, and gardening supplies to be moved efficiently throughout. I wanted a plot. I wanted one now!

I found a phone number on a tattered flyer attached to the fence and immediately called. I left a message and anxiously awaited a call back. Within a few days, I was talking to the volunteer running the garden. He was a charming elderly man and he carefully and might I say, thoroughly, explained the rules of the garden:

1. You must keep your plot free of weeds
2. No loud music
3. No running through the paths
4. No leaving hoses lying across paths
5. The garden committee is not responsible for lost or stolen tools.

The list went on. And on. And on. I began to tune him out. When I realized he had finally finished with the list I cheerfully exclaimed “Sounds good!”. I was in.

Or, so I thought.  Step 2 was the ‘in person’ interview.

After much cajoling on my part and being the great husband that he is, Rob threw in his support for renting a plot. I told him we’d probably make a better impression if we went as a couple to the interview. I don’t think he fell for it but he agreed to go with me anyway.

We met our tour guide after work one night to walk the garden and get our plot assignment. After a thorough up and down examination over wire rimmed glasses we were apparently deemed ‘worthy’ because the tour began. 20 minutes later we were handed our contract to sign, given a carbon copy, and left to ourselves with a handshake and a smile. Rob and I set out to find our new space.

Our plot turned out to be weed infested, hard packed and a definite challenge. The plot next to ours was also vacant and in just as bad a shape. The plots around us were bursting with brussel sprouts, kale, and artichokes. After surveying the work and the energy needed I planned to come back the following weekend to clear the weeds. I had plenty of work to do.

The following Saturday I awoke to sunny skies and boundless energy. I loaded tools and drove to my little piece of veggie heaven. After about two hours I had our plot and adjacent one cleared and prepped. Dirt was turned, amendments added. I left with dirt on my hands and a smile on my face.

The next week was spent pouring over seed catalogs and planting tips. Based on the time of year I decided to wait the 3 ½ months till spring to plant the first of my summer veggies.

Every few weeks, I’d pop over to the garden to weed. I’d turn the soil to be sure it was loose and took the time to care for my vacant neighbor. I began to wonder if you could rent two plots. That would be twice the tomatoes and or what about growing watermelons? I started getting giddy with excitement.

About eight weeks later I received a letter in the mail from the community garden committee. We were having friends over for dinner so I set the letter aside to concentrate on my cream sauce. A few hours and a clean house later, I settled on the couch with the letter and a glass of wine. What could this be? A quarterly newsletter filled with gardening tips and advice? Or, could it be another lengthy list of rules? I tore it open with curiosity and began to read. My eyes widened and I caught my breath. What I had in my hand was not the friendly newsletter I was hoping for. Nor was it an extended set of rules. I had been bad. Really, really bad.

The letter I was holding notified me that the community garden committee had discussed and decided that I had violated the terms of the contract therefore forfeiting my plot and was hereby banned from the garden.

For life.

This has got to be a mistake. I had done everything right. Where did I go wrong? I felt like a 3^rd grader being falsely accused of making faces behind the teachers back and sent to the principal’s office. Wait! I’m innocent!

Then it hit me. I’ve been banned from our local community garden. For life. I needed more wine, my contract, and the phone.

Turns out the committee considered my bare plot as being in violation of rule #7 – plot must not be bare for more than 45 days (or 60 days. I can’t remember. Either way, it’s a stupid rule). I was blown away. While I may not have had brussel sprouts growing, my plot was clean and turned. It didn’t matter. Their decision was final.

I’m storming around the house when my husband arrives home followed by our close friends who were joining us for dinner. As I’m pouring wine, I’m angrily waiving the letter in the air and shouting about the injustice I had been dealt. How can they do this to me? This was my chance for a garden. A real garden. Didn’t they know how lucky they were to have me? Didn’t they? What about the fact that I willingly kept the vacant plot next to mine free of weeds? Talk about ungrateful! Mid way through my rant I notice all three of them turning red and trying with all their might to hold back the laughter. My girlfriend had snorted wine through her nose and my husband was holding his sides in obvious pain from laughing so hard.  Then it hit me. This whole mess was damn funny. I burst out laughing.

I laughed till I was gasping for air. I mean, come on, it really is funny that I was banned from a community garden simply for not planting anything for a few months. Heck, I could have argued I was letting the soil ‘rest’.  And while it’s made for great conversation over the years, truth be told I haven’t felt the inspiration to plant a garden since. Thank goodness for the Farmer’s Market and our local CSA (Community Supported Agriculture).

So, the moral of the story is this. Go get a community garden plot. Weed it, amend the soil, and plant something. Anything. Don’t let my story deter you. Get reconnected with the soil and experience the joy of biting into the tomato, broccoli, or leafy lettuce you grew yourself. I’m really tempted to go get a plot at our local community garden but I’m a tad nervous. Is there some sort of FBI-type file for rogue gardeners? Do I have to put that I was banned from a previous community garden on my application? Am I feeling lucky?

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 3rd, 2009 at 3:51 pm and is filed under Green Living. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.